How many people are you living with? It was only one. The more energy that was drained, the less that she was around. It was always better when she was around, but unpredictable: it was impossible to tell when she would show up, how long it would last, what risks were involved, what would be asked, and how we would change. To live without her, however, was not to live at all. It was lifeless, colorless, lacking hope, without purpose, and a choice for choice's sake. It was the real-surreal, the open-closed, and the plural-singular. The Talking To Myself.

It took extra time to put together the body, alone. It took extra-energy to move, alone. It took extra-effort to be, alone. Alone was the hallow and empty of more. Alone had nothing to fill the space, but insisted on more of it. Alone gave nothing. It was static, not dynamic -- completely unable to see or be outside of itself. Alone desired to be full, to be many, to live, but was endlessly, alone.

Alone created the drain to replicate itself. Collecting the almosts that were once dreams.